


I Missed You

by criesthenwrites



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gallavich, Gallavich Week, Gay, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, Love, M/M, Reunions, angry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:39:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/criesthenwrites/pseuds/criesthenwrites
Summary: Ian left Mickey seven months ago and thought of almost nothing since. Mickey, on the other hand has found yet another loophole to cheat the system. The unlikely pair meet up again, but take it upon them selves to decide if being together is worth the risk and at what cost.





	1. Ian

The buzzing cell phone on the makeshift nightstand broke Ian from his dream, leaving that gross feeling of nostalgia rest uncomfortably in his stomach. Running his hand through his hair, he pressed snooze and tried his best take himself back into the dream.

_A blanket, the moon, the taste of warm beer, the smell of cigarettes, the smell of him. "Jesus Christ, you wanna spread a blanket out and look for shooting stars next?"_

The returned buzzing chased the last of the dream away, and he decided it was time to force himself to go through another day. The sunlight burnt his eyes as he looked out the window. The last bit of dirty snow littered the sidewalk as the morning crowd walked past, bundled up with permanent small clouds escaping their lips.

Ian hadn't dreamt of him in a while, it was like irritating a scab that was almost finished healing. Again, and again, and again.

"You take baby today. No?" The thick Russian accent asked from the doorway. Now that Svetlana stole The Alibi from Kev and V, Ian has been staying at the apartment above the bar the nights he didn't want to go home. No one really stayed at the house anymore. Fiona didn't have the heart to sell it though. Not yet anyways.

"Sorry, I have work today. I can tomorrow though." Ian responded, his voice still thick with sleep. She slid the kid in Ian's arms anyways, muttering in Russian. Svetlana finally trusted him with her son again, it took a while and many trials of observation to see he had the disorder under control. Yevgeny squirmed as Ian pressed his nose into the baby's soft head, inhaling. Geny looked up with pale blue eyes; and the scab got irritated again.

"Svetlana, I need to get ready! I can't be late for work!" Ian shouted before placing the child on the bed. For some odd reason, Ian was slightly more sensitive today.

"Fine. Tomorrow then." She placed his backpack next to her son and went to give Ian a kiss on the cheek. "You don't look healthy. Black bags under eyes. You take medicine? No lose shit around baby."

"Don't worry. I'm fine. I promise. Look." He finished sliding on his jacket, and grabbed the medication and Gatorade bottle; the breakfast of champions. He swallowed in one big gulp, and even exaggerated by opening his mouth wide and sticking out his tongue to prove a point.

"You still look sick. Maybe you should stay home. Sleep." She peered at him above the rim of her glasses.

"No can do. Thanks though, Svet. Bye little man." He depended down the stairs, passing Frank who was nursing a cup of beer, measuring the amount with a ruler.  
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Ian took a seat on the L, and tried staring out the window to pass time before his everyday stop. He felt anxious and restless, couldn't help it. He was on Ian's mind today.

Ian opened his backpack and stuck his hand towards the bottom, searching blindly for the tiny rectangle. Finally finding it, Ian took out the small flip phone Mickey gave him months ago, he kept it with him at all times. Flipping it open, Ian released a breath of disappointment. Of course the phone was dead, he had charged it a couple of times in the past but hasn't anytime recently. Ian's distorted reflection stared back at him through the blank 2x4 dull screen.

About two weeks after Ian watched Mickey drive off in that stupid fucking wig and dress, he got shit faced off two drinks and accidentally found the phone after angrily throwing the still untouched bag he took with him on that road trip. The phone slid under the bed after the impact, surprising him. Ian remembered staring at the phone for five minutes before picking it up, his drunken subconscious called the number Mickey used when he was last in Chicago. Of course the number was disconnected. Ian cried a lot that night, like some kind of bitch. An old queen. A twink.

The train stopped with a slight jolt, yanking him back into the present. He followed the small early crowd, not looking forward to work at all.

Ten minutes into Ian's shift they got a call; a young man had been shot after an almost deadly family fight. After arriving at the scene, the respondents immediately took notice of an older man being dragged into a cop car, his face visibly angry behind the blood pouring from a split eyebrow. His beaten face shouted angry words with such hatred Ian didn't have to hear him to know he was fucking pissed. Ian didn't know the story and he already hated him with his whole being. his fists clenched and he tried to keep from shaking. The man reminded him of another shitty father being thrown into a squad car a couple years ago.

"Ian? Respond to the scene, Ian." His boss said, her eyes looked slightly worried, "You okay?"

"Ya, uh, I'm on it. Sorry." Stepping out of the truck Ian took in his surroundings, falling into a sprint as he found a young man with jet black hair clutching his side, slumped against the wall. An African American male hovered over the black haired guy. Looking as if he didn't want to touch him, but didn't want to do nothing either. Both looked about two or three years younger then Ian himself. Once the man who was shot was strapped safely into the back of the van, the other guy jumped in after. He sat down and kept on running his hands through his curly hair, trying to steady his breath.

Ian kept busy, making sure the patient was stable. A weak voice broke his concentration, "Manny stop trying to yank out your hair, don't worry my dad didn't beat the fag out of me this time." He winked, completely ignoring Manny's worried glances toward Ian. "He might next time, if he goes for the ribs again." The black haired guy continued to joke, as Ian treated his bullet wound in an almost zombie like state. "Shut up, Craig." Manny warned, still clearly worried.

"Can you tell me what happened? I want to make sure I can treat all injuries necessary." Ian asked the pair.

Manny spoke up first. "Well you see, Craig's old man walked in on us doing something he didn't like, and, uh, kinda went fucking nuts, man. He went straight for Craig, and I pulled a gun on him. Except I'm on probation, see? So I kinda hesitated and the dad came at me and..." The boy continued, clearly trying to fight unwanted tears as his lover started to nod off.

It was safe to say Ian's metaphoric scab was ripped clean off, he might as well be the one who needed medical attention.

After successfully escorting Manny and Craig off at the hospital, Ian drove back to the station in silence, his mind was completely occupied of old memories he normally kept tucked away deep, much like the other demons he hid in his closet.

"You seem off today," Sue finally broke the awkward , "I think we'd be set here if you took the rest of the day off."  
Ian didn't even argue, he was off, but it wasn't because of his disease.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Ian didn't go back to Svetlana's, he went back home. Liam was sitting on the couch watching a show about dinosaurs and Frank was passed out on the foot of the stairs. Stepping over his dead beat dad, he took the stairs two at a time. Walking into his room he took in his surroundings, Carl's bed remained untouched; he returned to boot camp right after Monica's funeral. Liam's bed was now in Debby's old room, now that she is married to that dude who always blurted stupid shit out.

Ian sat down on his old bed and the springs squeaked loudly in protest under his weight. He let out a sigh and rubbed his hands together. Getting his mind straight, Ian immediately found the old charger still plugged into the wall. No one bothered stealing it, everyone had some kind of smart phone that wouldn't work with it anyways. He plugged in the small flip phone, lighting a cigarette and resting his head against the thin wall and old posters, waiting to hear the phone's song of returned energy. Ian didn't know why he was so caught up on this phone today. maybe it had to do with that stupid dream he had this morning.

After several minutes, the slightly scratched screen lit up, his shaking fingers held the small device and just stared at it, letting the smoke burn between his lips.

Two notifications flashed on the screen. Two more then there has ever been.


	2. Ian

Ian had no idea how to react. He continued to stare at the small phone, afraid to find what was within the small bit of metal and plastic. He snapped out of his stupor as the ash build up on his cigarette fell on the small screen.

"Bro, why the fuck do you have a flip phone still? What are you doing with that piece of shit?" Lip stood in the doorway, watching Ian with question.

"Uh, it's my old phone. Trying to find an old number, don't worry about it."

"You sure?" Lip was obviously not convinced, he just watched Ian stare at the thing for three minutes.

"Ya, hey I have to get to work. I'll see you later, though." Ian got up from the bed and began to gather his things, shoving the phone in his bag.

"I thought your shift was this morning." Lip was acting as though he was an interrogator, and it started to set Ian a little to the edge.

"Nah, ever heard of a schedule change?" Ian snapped, pushing past Lip and starting down the stairs in quick steps.

"Yeah, 'kay bro. Just stay safe alright?"

Ian's response was blocked out by the back door slamming shut down stairs, he was already gone.

Chicago's weather sucked ass tonight settling well below freezing, Ian zipped up his jacket and retrieved the old phone, deciding not to waste time and stare at it this time.  
He received one call and a voice mail to follow it. He stopped walking as the voice message began. He first heard a sharp intake of breath, it was rugged and slow. Ian heard the breath hitch, release, and suddenly it sounded as if the person decided against speaking and went to end the call before a female's voice spoke from the background.

"Hey, you sure Mi-" Click.

Ian's breath hitched in his throat, only one person was aware of this phone, and he was not about to be disappointed by a wrong number scenario. Ian called the number back immediately, not thinking of any consequences. A part of him expected the number to be disconnected, instead he found it go straight to voicemail. Ian tried twice more, each time the voicemail only answered. He started to grow frustrated, staring up at the few stars that showed through patches of clouds.

He decided to listen to his received voicemail again realizing he might actually recognize the voice in the background and cursed himself for not seeing this the first time he listened. He checked the date of the call. It was made three months ago, Mickey has been gone for seven.

He watched his breath disappear in the air as he listened to the voice mail for the last time that night. And he was sure of one thing. That was his ex's voice heard in the background.

The only ex-girlfriend he had to his name.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Ian had been to Mandy's once before. It was a little time after the Mexico road trip and it was another night he had been drinking. He called Mandy's number and told her it was his time for help. She gave him directions and they spent the night like old times; holding each other as they watched movies. He just wanted a friend. Not a jackass brother or a motherly sister. His best friend.

Ian wasted no time getting to downtown. He remembered his old days with old men; the only time he spent nights in these type of building. It also reminded him of the night Mickey stayed with him in a house full of gays, obviously uncomfortable yet willing enough to spend time with Ian. 

Ian had tried to put Mickey on the back burner. Tried to start new relationships and new beginnings. Didn't really work. He always went back to Mick. It hurt that Mickey was the one person outside of his family he truly cared for. But thinking about their twisted and uneven relationship hurt Ian even more. He saw the pain in Mickey's eyes every morning, he felt Mickey baby him. More interested in Ian's state of mind than Ian himself. His disease changed everything about him, and he couldn't stand to watch Mickey change as well. His coping method really had no game plan. It was easier to forget and talk Mickey down instead of miss him and hold onto the image forever.

Within time he finally showed up outside Mandy’s apartment door. He hesitated before knocking; resting his forehead onto the shiny wood instead. The door opened to his surprise, and he almost fell onto a brunette girl in a nice dress wearing lots of makeup.

"What the fuck?" The girl screamed, impulsively driving her knee in between Ian's legs.

Ian had no time to react. He was bent over with his eyes shut tight, trying to take deep breathes and recover from a knee to his dick. The girl was yelling, yet Ian couldn't focus on what she was saying quite yet.

"Yo, Iz. Calm down. I know this kid, Ethan or somethin'." A much calmer voice interrupted the girl's hysterical.

"Jeez, I didn't know. He was just there, on the door. I was tryin' to leave and he sorta just fell on me, just standing right at our door. Who does he think he is?" Her voice was high and squeaky, kind of reminding Ian of Sammie.

"I'm a friend of Mandy's, Ian. Is she around?" He managed through gritted teeth.

"Nah, she moved out about three months ago. I can direct your call though. Here's her new address, one sec." The quite girl told Ian, disappearing into the apartment.

"Sorry for kickin' ya in your jewels. You never know, huh?" Iz said shrugging, and disappearing down the hall.

"Here, she met this dude a while ago and kinda bolted. She's still around though, we meet up every once in awhile." The other girl came back from inside the apartment and handed Ian a small card with written instructions. "Good luck and great to see you again, Ginger." She smiled at him almost flirtatiously, Ian didn't have the heart to tell her he didn't remember her at all, or that he was gay. He awkwardly smiled his thanks and limped down the way he came.

Ian truly had no idea why he decided to chase Mickey today of all day's. He seemed like he was watching himself from a distance and totally missed the part where he decided it was a good idea. He missed Mickey, a lot. Everything reminded him of him. Yevgeny, Ian's work. Sometimes he'd catch a scent that brought Ian back to when he was 15, sneaking into Mickey's room with a crowbar...

Letting Mickey go to Mexico was the hardest decision he had ever made. Ian completely built himself up, he had a steady job that helped him feel like he mattered and had a purpose again. He had a bank account, a schedule to keep to. Ian didn't want to blame Mickey if things went south again. He didn't want to watch Mickey take care of him, always worried. He'd rather picture Mickey on the beach with tequila. Carefree.

Ian remembered when Fiona told him how he had done so well without Mickey, and how Mick would set a match to it. Unfortunately, there had been some truth to it. It wasn't the fact that Ian had done well because Mickey had been out of his life for the past while, but it didn't change the fact Ian had grown. Truth be told Mickey was a criminal. A criminal on the run from the feds. Ian would get sucked into that lifestyle easily of it meant being happy with Mickey. Of course Ian went anyways.

Being with Mickey was liberating. He felt that thrill that seemed to be dormant for the year or so. He felt right with Mickey. Although, as they shared more time together Ian started picking up their new found differences. Mickey walked into a bank with a gun and a mask, when that thought hadn't even crossed Ian's mind. Ian knew Mickey felt the difference too, watching Ian being handed the stacks of money saved in his account. Of course they were in denial. The both of them. Ian couldn't leave his family like that, he had too many loose ends that he wasn't going to be able to tie up if he ran to Mexico with Mickey Milkovich.


	3. Mickey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's POV, may change POV during some chapters but I will make it obvious.

Fuck, looking in the mirror was weird. He wiggled his eyebrows, his coked out sister insisted on dying those too. He looked like a pretty boy, barely recognizable. "I guess that's the whole point, though," Mickey muttered to himself. He put a shot of Vodka in his mouth to rinse then spit.

"What?" Mandy called from the other room.

"Wasn't talkin' to you." Mandy appeared in the doorway anyways.

"You know I bought you a toothbrush right? You can brush your teeth for the first time. I bet the cops for sure won’t recognize you if you did.”

“Fuck off.”

“You okay?”

Mickey’s first instinct was to lie and blow off her concern, instead he said, "Man. It's so twisted doing this. Makes me sick, ya know?"

"Since when do you give a shit about this stuff? Anyways, he wouldn't mind. He'd probably offer it if he knew. Pretty good idea, gotta give us Milkovich's a lil' credit."

"Mandy. He's dead." Mickey spat, "I stole his name. My own fuckin' brother. How sick is that?"

"Joey wouldn't have minded. I promise, Mick. Calm down."

When Mickey was in Mexico, he got a call from Iggy his fourth month in. Mickey had left left this number for emergencies only, he remembered being hesitant before pressing talk. Iggy called to let Mickey know their brother, Joey, died. He OD'd on some shitty horse.

_"Hey, Joey was clean. Never got caught or nothing. Nobody's looking for him or checking on him. We buried his body in Wisconsin. Real respectable, real quiet. No records or nothing."_

_"What the fuck are you getting at Ig? You better be using a prepay-ed phone man, throw that shit away..."_

Basically, Mickey did the fucked up, most Milkovich thing he could do. He stole his dead brother's identity.

Mickey had no real idea why he decided to come back. He was free in Mexico. Although it wasn't the beach he anticipated, it was all desert. The only tequila he scored was were the few drops he bummed after his shift at the old bar he tended at. He was safe though, met a few friends. It didn't click though, he forgot how much non-English speakers annoyed him.

He always told himself he didn't have anything to come back to. His family wasn't much, and Ian disappointed him one too many times. Mickey found himself back in Chicago anyways. With blonde hair and tan skin. And his name was Joey. The only plus side was the legal paperwork ready made and the family resemblance.

It's been months since Mickey had been back in Chicago, he stayed low. He barely ever left the apartment. Cops weren't crawling around anymore but he'd be stupid to say they stopped looking for him. Mandy made more than enough with her escort service, the two lived comfortably enough in the small apartment they snagged. Mickey was used to sitting indoors all day, he's been trapped behind bars more than enough times. He still felt restless. Everything was so in reach, no more than 30 miles away. Yet, he was trapped. By fear. Mickey Milkovich had his moments of holding back, but he always came out with a bang in the end. Joey Milkovich was much quieter, more afraid.


	4. Ian

This was as far fetched as it could get, Ian thought. It probably wasn't even Mandy. He just wanted it to be Mandy. He should move on, him and Mickey said their good bye. It's been seven months, who knew where Mickey could be? Mickey could be dead for all Ian knew. Ian physically winced at the idea.

Mickey and Ian weren't kids anymore, their worries were far passed hiding from the fucked up excuse of a dad, from trying to fit in a quick bang when the store ran slow. Their troubles then would seem intoxicating to anyone on the outside looking in, people would pity their story. To them, that was life. It was a twisted kind of fun, a thrill nothing could ever replace. Then their relationship morphed as their troubles changed. Ian's troubles. Ian's disorder. Ian was the problem. Mickey morphed into the man Ian always wished for, and Ian wasn't able to see it through his fogged brain and distracting highs.

Before he knew it Mickey was in prison. Monica took advantage of Ian's broken mind and planted a twisted, ugly, and desperate image of Mickey. He was so used to his family looking down on Ian, waiting for him to explode. Fiona acted as if he was a child, who needed to be watched. _Hide the knives._ He thought he was fine, he really did. Monica was the only one who understood, and looking back Ian realized that wasn't the best source of influence. For years Ian watched Monica leave, and he called her selfish. Before he knew it, he was doing the same thing. Hearing Monica say those words was better than any drug Ian had ever tested.

He knew better now.

Wasn't he being selfish now, though? Just as Monica was when she came back, just to die in their arms. Her last and final fuck you. What if Mickey moved on and Ian came back just to rip his metaphoric scab off. Ian moved on when Mickey came to him seven months ago, their feelings were the same though. Mickey and Ian's lives were like oil and water, no matter how they felt towards each other. Whichever way you looked at it, Mickey and Ian could never share the same life unless it was hidden in a different city.

Come to think of it, Ian wasn't looking to win Mick back like some desperate housewife. He just wanted to make sure he was safe. That's all. He didn't want to admit it but evidently, Ian was desperate. The missed phone call broke though Ian's subconscious with a big bang , Ian was not going to give up until he tried everything he knew. Even if it meant running to Mexico. Mickey wouldn't have called him just because.

Thoughts of Mickey paraded through Ian's head, and before he knew it he was at Mandy's. They haven't talked in awhile and he missed her. For some reason showing up here out of blue felt wrong and evasive. Although, if Mickey was evolved and Ian called, Mandy would tell him not to come, he knew that for sure. He couldn't risk it. He stubbed the cigarette in his fingers, flicked the last of it away and made his way onto the apartment complex.

Ian reached the door, checking the small card to double check it was the right one then hesitantly raised his fist. He took a deep shaken breath and knocked twice before he could stop himself.

Before Ian could react, Mandy opened the door within seconds. When she saw who it was her breath hitched and her eyes widened. "Uh, Ian. What the fuck are you doing here?" She demanded in a low voice.

Ian couldn't answer, what was he supposed to tell her?

He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped when another voice spoke from behind Mandy.

"Who's at the damn door? It better be that fucking pizza, make sure you don't tip. I've waited long enough."

Ian watched as Mandy shut her eyes in defeat, and she automatically tried closing the door. Ian's strong arm snapped up and stopped the door from closing and pushed it open, harder than he meant to due to the loud slam it caused. Mandy stumbled back a few steps, and Mickey appeared behind her to check on the noise.

Except it wasn't Mickey. It was a tanner, stronger, blonder Mickey.

Neither spoke at first, eyes locking. Ian went out tonight to look for clues on the where bouts of Mickey, and it was definitely a punch in the stomach to find him. It felt as though all the air was ripped clean from his lungs, his heart injected with a drug that quickened the pace to the speed of a humming bird. Mandy coughed, breaking the spell in a matter of seconds. It seemed as though both men needed a slap to the face or a shake of the head to clear their now very fuzzy mind. And as if set on a timer, Mickey and Ian let out the same "What the fuck?" mixed with enough confusion and shock to knock someone out.


	5. Mickey

"What the fuck could you possibly want?" Mickey demanded, immediately putting on a defensive front. Behind his act, Mickey was reminded of the last moment he and Ian had shared. Just looking at the kid brought back memories so vivid his dick twitched.

"Mickey?" Ian asked in a shaky voice, his face looked exactly as it did when Mickey surprised him months ago. Disbelief, shock, relief, happiness, maybe? Fuck if Mickey knew. Although, he did know that if he had the skill he would be able to draw that face if he wanted to, straight from memory. But he didn't have the skill and he didn't want to.

"Nah, it's Joey." From the sideline Mandy's head snapped towards him, disbelief and pity now etched on her face. Never in the past four months had Mickey told anyone to call him Joey.

"Wha- Joey?" Ian asked clearly confused.

"Is there something you need, Gallagher? From Mandy, maybe? Get whatever it is and fucking scram." Mickey spat and turned around, stalking towards the kitchen and grabbing a beer, leaving Ian and his sister in the other room.

Mickey sat down, for the first time in forever actually happy that Ian didn't follow him. He heard low voices from the other room and Mickey felt a rush of emotion. His eyes started to tingle so Mickey dug the heels of his hand against them, trying to force back any tear that would even dare show itself. Mickey was no bitch, so he wasn't going to act like one. He let his guard down too many times for the fucker in the other room and allowed himself to get stomped on until he was someone he barely recognized. Not gonna happen again. Not anymore.

The sound of someone knocking on the door echoed through the now silent apartment. Mickey cussed under his breath, he knew what that knock meant. Twenty seconds later, Mandy walked in balancing a box of pizza in her hands.

"Hey, Mickey, I have to go now. I'm really sorry but you know I have to. I can try and kick Ian out, but you and I both know that red head is not going anywhere." Her blonde hair was put up and she wore a tight black dress. She was going to work.

"I'll deal with it."

 

"Just don't trash my apartment, whatever you do." She said, picking up her keys. "And don't do anything stupid." Mickey watched her turn around and walk out, flinching at the sound of the door closing.

Mickey didn't move from his spot, draining the last of his beer. He wasn't sure if he expected Ian to walk in here or not, but neither of the two made the first move. Mandy's stupid "I'm rich" clock hung on the wall, ticking loudly mocking the time Ian and Mickey played chicken, waiting to see who would give in first. Mickey stared at the thing, watching the second's hand pass all the numbers four times. His mind focusing on the fact that Ian found him. Mickey wasn't actually hiding in the most difficult spot, but Mandy had specifically told him her and Ian didn't exactly talk anymore. She mentioned them having a get together about seven months ago, but she didn't mention why. Just that he must've felt too embarrassed to reach out again. Why now though?

Ian was standing in the kitchen doorway, watching Mickey stare at some fancy clock that hung on the wall. When Mickey caught him staring he flinched, lightly crushing the empty can held in his hand. He looked away quickly, playing with the newer scars on his hands.

"The fuck are you staring at, Gallagher." Mickey spit with more venom than he intended to.

"You're blonde now?"

"What's it to you?"

"You're back." Ian replied, saying it in a tone of true disbelief.

"Does it fuckin' look like I'm back, Helen Keller?

"You didn't tell me," Ian ignored the crack and played with the end of his scarf, trying to ignore the fact that Mickey refused to hold eye contact with him.

"Didn't wanna intrude on your new lifestyle, seeing how you said you have a new life n' all."

"Awh, Mick. Don't be this way." It took Mickey all his effort not to be this way, because he felt himself cracking just being in the dudes presence.

"Will you at least fucking look at me? I spent all night looking for this place, hoping I had one clue where you fucking were. Because I miss you Mickey! Sue me if you fucking want. I know I don't exactly have the right, but I fucking miss you, okay? I hate myself for what I did, for what happened. I can't get you out of my head. I am so sorry, man. For everything. " Ian was out of breath after his short speech, and Mickey finally looked up.

"You're right, Gallagher. You don't have the right. You left me, remember? Right at the fucking border. You built my hopes real high, man. Then you threw me out, dropping my ass, again. I'm not like one of your new boyfriends. We were family. So fuck you, man. And get the fuck out of my apartment." Now that Mickey got this off of his chest, he felt exhausted. He finally got up to get another beer, and decided to go to his room now. "You can show yourself the way out."

He came to his room and shut the door. Ian came looking for him? That should be a first. Through his anger, Mickey was relishing the thought of that. Mickey was the one who always chased after Ian, especially in the later years of their fucked up relationship.

He threw himself onto his bed, picking at his fingernails. Even though he expected, he sighed loudly when Ian barged in his room.

"You have to understand, Mickey. I had my shit together. I have a job that I can actually do. I'm a high-school-drop-out-nut case, Mick. Where else am I gonna find a career? I'm good at what I do. I feel like me again, my life was finally mine. And you came back, and that wasn't the case anymore."

"What the fuck are you getting at?"

"When I'm with you, Mickey, I'm not me anymore. I'm.." Ian began to hesitate, "because when I'm with you, I'm yours. And no matter how much I wanted to go with you, I knew I couldn't throw my life away. I have a family, that I didn't even say bye too. I have a disease, one we are both familiar to, that if by some case we couldn't get our hands on some medication, everything would change and it would be just like before you left, and I couldn't let that happen again. And you were a runaway prisoner, Mick. Do you even get that? We would be hiding our whole lives, and I was just getting used to having one." Ian let go of his second speech, he had nothing left to say.  
Mickey got off his bed, he wanted Ian to go before things got too out of control. He wasn't looking for an intervention tonight.

"Doesn't matter anymore, c'mon Ian. Just leave." He put his hand on Ian's shoulder to guide him out.

"Bullshit."  
Mickey finally lost it, "Bullshit? You wanna know what's bullshit? This whole fucking thing, Ian. You always called the shots. Making me come out, leaving me." Mickey shoved Ian against the door, making it slam behind him as he raised his arm to Ian's throat to pin him back. "I loved you man!" He shouted in his face.  
The two men were both out of breath, their chest rising in unison. Fires were lit in both eyes and that familiar flare of passion flashed between them.  
This was their weakness, this moment of closeness and fury, and they both knew it. Their lips met with such anger it shocked them both and their hands made their way their familiar favorite spots; each at the nape of their neck. Ian and Mickey backed onto the bed, holding each other close, making the mistake both of them promised themselves they wouldn't.


	6. Mickey

Mickey looked down at Ian, asleep in his sheets and snoring lightly. When he was sleeping, Ian looked young again. The training base, working as a stripper, the disease, and whatever else seemed to age Ian in such a way, Mickey missed his freckles and lopsided grin. Now he was relaxed, looking as if this was the first time he really rested in years. All of Mickey's anger seemed to disappear after the two of them touched, he didn't really blame Ian for not coming with him, Ian made a fair point reminding Mickey of the reality in the scenario.

And fuck, he missed this kid so much. No matter the bitterness he felt towards the whole thing, he owed this kid a lot. Ian allowed Mickey to be comfortable with who he was, he taught him love and family in a way he never learned in that old trashy house, and no matter what the outside thought, that meant a lot to Mickey.

Noticing how Ian's hair darkened a little since he last seen him, Mickey lifted his hand without out a thought, ready to run his fingers through his hair. None but three inches away, Mickey's hand stopped in mid air. Touching Ian like this, even after what they've just finished, felt wrong. Touching Ian like this was a bit too intimate. Mickey had tried his hardest to forget this guy, putting as many walls as he could to prevent himself walking around like a beat up little kid.

No matter what he told himself, Mickey was still whipped. He cared for this kid much more than he cared to admit. Mickey got up from bed, pulling up his boxers. He picked his phone up from his dresser, he never checked the thing. He only used it to keep track of Mandy on her nights out in case. Of course the useless thing had died, he hadn't charged it on over a few days and it was old as fuck.

After taking five minutes to light up, Mickey fumbled with the dumb thing. Taking it longer than it should of to check his notifications. He had one text from Mandy.

-Hey, stying out tonight to give you some space. Text me if you need me.

Mickey let out a big sigh, and typed back a simple, K. He was glad Mandy decided to stay out, he didn't know how to deal with Ian now and he really didn't really want an audience too. Mickey noticed he received a couple of hundred calls that night, too. Seeing what name they were under, everything clicked into place. No wonder Ian came over like some kind of Sherlock. He grabbed a beer and a smoke, making his way back to his room.

"You look good." Ian said, now awake, his voice thick with sleep. Mickey pulled on a shirt over his head to distract from the fact he wanted to blush like some kind of fairy.

"Ya, whatever. Nothing to do but work out, plus I lost a lot of weight when I was living down south."

Ian immediately dropped his eyes and began to pick at his nails, obviously uncomfortable at the mention of Mexico.

Now partially dressed, Mickey felt comfortable sitting next to Ian on the bed. "I'm not gonna lie Gallagher, you look like shit." Mickey wanted to ask questions, but he didn't want to seem desperate.

"Don't worry. I'm on my meds." Ian said with a slight chuckle, as Mickey raised a cigarette to his lips.

"Holy shit, Mick. What the fuck did you do?" Ian gasped, reaching for Mickeys hands and turning them knuckles up.

Mickey shifted uncomfortably as Ian ran his fingers over Mickey's still sensitive scars. He yanked them away to light the cigarette in his mouth, he took a drag before answering, "Had to make sure, ya know?"

"So you burned your tattoo off? Fuck, that oughta hurt."

"Eh, we both know I've been through a lot of shit." Mickey noticed Ian look down again, something playing on his conscious. Mickey racked his brain for something to fill the silence with. "Hey, check this out," He flipped his hands up, showing off his mutilated finger tips. "This stung a bit, but do you think I can pull of a burn victim? Had to get rid the tats, considering they were kinda my trademark or some shit. For sure had to get rid of these bad boys, though," He said, rubbing his burned fingertips together as if  
he had money between them.

"How is this whole thing working?" Ian sat up and swung his legs over the bed, and went to get his clothes that somehow ended up across the room.

"Uh, well," began Mickey, catching himself staring, "I got a call from Iggy saying my brother, Joe, died."

"Ah, I remember him! He moved when we were real young, huh?"

"Yeah, well, somehow Joey never managed to get in trouble growing up, he did a lot of shady shit but never got caught. He has no records to his name. Not a paper against his name. He's got a birth certificate that we were able to dig up, and a few other papers but he was never a real official man. So, still gotta stay real low and all just like Joe did, so I..."

"You snagged it, huh? You took his name, like you mentioned earlier." Ian said matter of factly, sitting back on the bed

"You can't go snitching man, I know you got an official job and everything."

"I'm an EMT, Mick. And I'm a Gallagher," Ian reminded him, "But, no, that's smart man, but.." He hesitated a bit, not wanting to finish.

"But what, mumbles, spit it out." Mickey snapped.

"Why'd you come back?" Silence responded at first, a heavy blanket of awkward-as-fuck settled on the two men.

"If I'm being honest, I came back with you in my mind. I wanted to go back, but, fuck man, I kept on hearing that line you pulled." Ian nodded, knowing which line he was referring too. "And soon, I decided against it. I wasn't apart of your life anymore, you wanted me out. So I wasn't about to come crawling back just to get squished like a bug again."

A heavier silence filled the room this time, interrupted by a notification from Ian's phone and he scrambled to answer it, "Fuck!"

"Everything alright?" Mickey asked, scratching his stubble.

"Yeah I just promised Svet I would babysit today," Ian responded absentmindedly.

"Yevgeny?" Mickey asked, tears threatening again.

"Uh, yeah. He's great, he looks just like you, only blonde. I mean, yeah, just like you," Ian said, laughing slightly. Mickey smiled too.

"Can I come back?" Ian asked quietly.

Mickey just shrugged, and Ian took that as a yes. Both of them knew it was.


	7. Ian

There was no amount of money that would be able to help Ian decide what he was feeling. He racked his own brain hard for an answer, any answer or explanation for what happened during the last however many hours. There was a sense of calm now settled within him, mixed with an excitement that erupted. A mixture only Mickey could conjure. He was unnaturally happy, walking with a bounce in his step. He promised not to get his hopes up, but Mickey made him feel like they were teenagers again. The giddy feeling of being with someone he knew he shouldn't and that sense of accomplishment and happiness came rushing back to him.

Him and Mickey had a lot of unfinished business, they let out a couple of skeletons, but nothing was truly discussed. They barely even caught up. Both men had a special difficulty of expressing themselves, perhaps it was the way they were raised. It would take effort for them to both explain themselves thoroughly and discuss where they stood and what precautions to take. Never had Mickey and Ian ever truly discussed their relationship, even during their minimal good days.

Stopping by the house, Ian meant to pick up some new clothes and take a shower yo clean up after the night he had. Walking into the house he saw Fiona was just about to leave, dressed in her management getup. Seeing Ian, she gave her big smile along with the "hi!" disguised by a chuckle.

"Hey Fi! Great morning, isn't it? Wow!" Responded Ian, with an even bigger smile.

Before she could stop herself, Fiona let her smile fall a fraction of an inch. "You taking coke again Ian? Anything you need to tell me?" She joked, trying to hide her concern.

"Nah, just met up with an old friend. Put me on a good mood! What did you do last night?" Ian asked, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge.  
Fiona's smile completely dropped this time, actually looking guilty. "If I'm being honest, I met up with an old friend too." She smiled a small lopsided one and gave Ian a quick kiss on the cheek as a goodbye.

About forty five minutes later, Ian showed up at Svet's. As he walked into the bar, the Russian slammed the down the drink she was serving. "You're late! Three hours baby sat on bar." She spat. "Where were you? You no came back last night."

"I was out," he shrugged. He liked Svetlana, but he didn't trust Svetlana, especially with the news of her ex husband's where bouts. He picked up Yevgeny, and tossed him in the air, letting the boy land safely in his hands. Yevgeny let out a boyish high pitched scream, giggling loudly. A drunk bum from somewhere in the joint let out a groan of protest.

"I change mind, you don't have to watch baby." Svetlana decided, coming around the bar and taking her son in her arms. "You off hook for two days now, lucky you." She gave him a kiss on the forehead anyways.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Mickey let Ian in, both quiet and nervous.

"Where's Mandy?" Ian asked putting his bag down.

"Fuck if I know, bitch doesn't tell me nothing no more" Mickey said, finishing the last of the soda he's been drinking, letting out a loud burp.

"Hey, I wanna show you something." Ian pulled out his phone and opened his pictures app.

A recent picture of a smiling Yevgeny was displayed across the screen as Ian passed his phone to Mickey.

Mickey stared at the screen for a while, hiding any emotion he felt. Ian was left nothing to do other than take a few minutes of looking at Mickeys face.

Finally, Mickey dropped the phone. "Hey, listen, man. I've been thinking, we gotta talk." He sighed.

"Yeah, dude, I was thinking the same thing." Ian responded nonchalantly.

"I don't think we should do this." Mickey spoke slowly with a slight bitter edge, reminding Ian back when he broke some sad news to Mickey.

"What do you mean?" Ian asked, his attention focusing.

"This." The word was spoken like a gunshot, quick and effective.

"As in.. this?" Ian asked, pointing at Mickey then himself. He was starting to get a sick feeling in his stomach.

"Yeah, man." Mickey was obviously softer, looking as if he didn't want to do this either

"What are you talking about?" Ian asked, taking a few steps away from Mickey.

"Last night was great, catching up and all. But we gotta think about this in the long run, Ian." Mickey began, " The two of us, we are living completely different lives; from what we lived during our time and apart. Everything is different. I'm different. I'm Joey, Ian."

"Shut up, I know who you are." Ian said with a certain tone of disgust and anger.

"And I know who you are,"

"You're not making any fucking sense."

"I'm making perfect sense. We can not live out our lives with you coming to visit me after work like I'm some kinda housewife. And what if I get caught? And you're an accomplice? Let's try getting a high-school-dropout-nut-case-criminal a new 'career' as you put it."  
Ian couldn't find anything to say, although he tried really fucking hard.

"You know all of this too, don't fucking deny it. I can't stay here. Yeah I have a new name and a fucking clean social security number, but I have the same face, man. I can start a new life, not on the run. And you can live the life you have, because, ya whatever you were handed a couple of unlucky cards but you're turning out alright, you're on track. And I have to try my best to do the best thing next to that."

"But I lo-"

"Don't fucking say that, dude. We both know how we feel about each other. We don't gotta say anything, because we know. Ha, I think we always fucking knew, we never had to say, so let's not make it into a habit." Mickey said, looking Ian in the eye. "You're apart of me, but we still gotta move on. We know that too."

"You sound like a fucking poet."

"Fuck you, I finally picked up a few books."

"That's not the only reason though, huh?"

Mickey looked down, tears threatening his eyes again, "You're right. You hurt me, and most people know the Milkovich's fucking hate being hurt. If I can help myself from getting fucked over by someone I care about, I'm gonna take it. This ain't a fairy tale man, we don't get no happy ending."

Ian bent down and picked up his bag from the ground. He felt sick, he got his talk though. This was the most he ever remembered Mickey talking, it was new for both of him.

"Ya, Mick. I understand." That feeling of coldness seeped into Ian's veins again, reminding him of the twisted days of new medications and lost lovers and judgment and emptiness.

"Hey. It's alright though, right? A clean break, no what ifs." Mickey said, noticing the change in Ian's entire being.

"Sure."

"Don't go running off to the army again, though." Mickey tried joking, "Take care of yourself, man."

"You too, good luck, Mick. Be careful."

"You too, fire crotch." The look Ian gave Mickey was pure disappointment, not at the lame reminiscent joke; but at the thought of what they had and what was stolen from them. Because of his half bitch sister and his bitch of a disease. He remembered all the times he talked Mickey down and all the times he tried making up excuses on why he shouldn't dwell on Mickey. He needed to stop falsely blaming Mickey, and start accepting this was all on Ian and his fucked up life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lot's of dialog, I hope it's not too boring! Thank you for reading, let me know if you have any advice on what you like or don't like. I'll be back with more soon as I can.


	8. Mickey

Watching Ian walkout sucked for sure, of course, but there was something to do with the fact that Mickey made it happen this time made the moment less bitter then it already was. Mickey called the shots tonight, and it was much better being opposite of the receiving end. 

Mickey’s speech felt like a foreign language escaping awkwardly from his mouth, he’s never been the one be an open book, normally expressing himself through actions or outbursts of “fuck”s. 

He convinced himself he cared about Ian enough to owe him a full explanation. He knew what it felt like to be left without anything really being said, and it sucked. What he knew was right and what he wanted went at war all day, until one of them won. He sat cooped up all day, remembering what it felt like to be with Ian again. Nevermind how it felt to be the one taking it again, but the feeling of Ian with him. Him falling asleep after giving it all they had. He had to chase away that feeling by reminding himself the reality of their situations. 

Grabbing the case of beers from the fridge and scratching his stubble angrily, he made his way to his room, slamming the door in frustration. He went and turned on music, cranking it to an ear splitting I-can’t-think volume. 

Didn’t work. Even with his eyes closed and his ear drums throbbing he was still able to see Ian’s demeanor change in a quick matter of seconds and hear his weak “be careful”. Mickey saw that look on Ian’s face before, existing only after Ian was shoved into the wall by Mickey, being promised a trip to the hospital one way or the other. Ian went off, had a psychotic break then went and stole Mickey’s kid…

“Fuck!” He yelled, punching the wall in rage, leaving a fist imprint in the painted plaster. He’d after to cover that up before Mandy noticed. His rage and fear combined into a numbing sensation, tears threatened to spill for the thousandth time in the last twenty four hours. He let a tear fall before swatting it away, hitting his face harder than he meant to. He wiped his nose after, noticing his face seemed even more wet after. Looking down he saw his knuckles raw and bleeding. He pulled off his shirt, now splattered with specks of blood, immediately forming goose bumps due to the cold air around him. 

Mickey caught sight of himself in the mirror across his room. He didn’t recognize himself. Never mind his hair or his weight, he was different. The only thing he recognized about himself was the small script on his chest. Ian Gallagher would always be apart of Mickey, always would be.

He brought his hand up to his chest, tracing the words with a botched finger. He remembered how angry he was when Ian informed him of his errors, spelling his last name wrong. Upon reflection, Mickey wouldn’t have it any other way. His mistake perfectly portrayed their relationship, perfectly fucked up.

Mickey found another clean shirt and slipped it on. Mandy bought him cleaner and newer shirts, “so no one recognizes you for the piece of south trash you are”. He flopped down hard on his bed causing the post to slam against the wall harder than he intended to, probably leaving another dent. He popped upon a can and drank the thing in a few gulps. He crushed the can within his fist and threw it in the direction of his trash can.

Mickey opened his mouth to let out a burp, barely lifting an eyebrow as his sister barged in his room and turned off the music,“What the fuck, douche bag?” Mandy yelled. 

“Fuck off.” Mickey burped the words proudly. 

“Did you fucking hit the wall?” Mandy was running her hand over the dent, the bits chipping away. “Jesus Mick, what the fuck happened to you?”

A knock sounded on the door, “It’s probably for you, go get it.” Mandy bossed, now noticing the dent the bedpost made. 

Mickey got up after the second impatient knock sounded, he half expected it to be Ian. Almost hoping it was him, just to make sure Ian wasn’t streaking in a movie theater by now. 

Mickey looked in the peep hole, only to find the cops on the other side. Mickey’s head ran through a million outcomes, he almost decided to dip through a window and shimmy down the pipes. His brain buzzed lightly, reminding him of the alcohol in his system. 

“Fuck,” muttered Mickey. “Mandy, we have visitors!” He called, reaching for the pair of glasses from a nearby table and straightened his shirt, preparing himself for the meeting.

“Then answer the door, dipshit.” The fuzz knocked impatiently again, this time louder. 

Mick took a breath and tried to look like he didn’t cause trouble.

“Hey officers, can I help you?” Mickey asked nonchalantly. 

“Hello, we got a noise complaint? Can we ask you to lower the volume, it's eleven in the evening.” The cop said, he was old and fat. A classic pig. 

“ Yeah, sorry sir, my sister just had a temper tantrum. I calmed her down,” Mickey went to shut the door, but the fatty stuck out his foot, preventing it from closing.

“Loud bangs were reported?” 

“Like I said, temper tantrum. Bitch threw around a few things.” Mickey was impatient, the longer the cop stood there, the more likely he was gonna recognize him. “I was just about to lie down, I have work. Anything else I can do?” 

The cop gave Mickey a once over, making him bring his scarred hands to him mouth, trying to cover up his face as much as he could.

“A second complaint and we’ll have a longer talk.” He warned waddling off, pulling up his belt.

Mickey raised his eyebrows and nodded with a tight smile, swinging the door shut. He couldn’t describe the feeling, but Mickey felt as though he cheated death. He ripped off his Clarke Kent disguise.

“Why didn’t you invite them in?” Mandy asked.

“Yeah, like hell I was gonna invite the fucking cops inside.” He scoffed in reply. 

“Shit.” She looked up, dropping the bit of leftover pizza she was eating. 

“You got any weed?” Mickey asked,

“I thought it was Ian, I’m so sorry.”

“Ya, it’s not gonna be Ian for a while. Now you got any weed?”


	9. Ian

Just like most of the previous times, the people surrounding Ian caught on pretty fast. Like after he found Caleb cheating, after he returned from Mexico, and that whole period of time after Ian returned from the army. 

Lip noticed his lack of sleep. Fiona grew suspicious of his cheerful mood. His boss stopped him from almost fighting a bystander who wouldn't stop trying to take pictures of the horrible accident on the street…

He was forced to watch the video of him talking to himself. That’s the part that made him feel “crazy”, he was just trying to distract himself from Mickey. So what if he cleaned the bathroom at two A.M? He was dreaming about Mickey and the fucking shooting stars again, he didn’t want to go to sleep to that. As usual they didn’t listen. The ushered him to the pharmacy to fix him up, like he was some malfunctioned kitchen item or some shit. 

It broke, though. Just for a few days. Sue gave him the week off; he didn’t even notice, or care. 

The day he found himself to decide to get up and finally take a shower, was the day Lip and Fiona cornered him. 

“Dude, what happened?” Lip asked, drinking a bottled water.

“You know you can tell us anything.” Fiona leaned across the bed and covered his hands with hers, smiling softly. Ian stared at Fiona, although probably not as bad as his light bruises shadowed her under eyes. Her hair was loose and wild, almost lion like. He glanced up at Lip next, he stood with his arms and legs cross, leaning heavily onto the door frame, raising his eyebrows and daring Ian to speak. 

He took a deep breath, these people were a selected few of the very very small circle he trusted. It would be nice to get it out. Ian closed his eyes, beginning slow. “I didn’t tell you guys this before, and the second you yell at me I’m going to shut up and walk out.”

Fiona’s brow furrowed a bit at the sound but remained silent. 

“Jesus, Ian.” Lip started, “How many times do I have to say this? When have I ever let you down?” 

Ian ignored the question, “About seven months ago, right before Monica croaked, Mickey broke out of prison, as you know. Well,” Ian looked down, not wanting to see their reactions to what he had to say next, “he reached out to me. He told me he planned on making it to Mexico with a couple of fake I.D’s and shit, and I told him I’d go with him. We almost made it before I chickened, leaving him to cross the border alone. I was literally right there. Anyways, he’s back. Look’s different, different name, and everything. I found him. He told me to beat it. There you go.” 

Saying it out loud felt as though he had a hundred pounds lifted off his shoulders and he was left to only deal with the other nine hundred. 

“We Gallagher’s know how to pick ‘em.” Fiona chuckled slightly. 

Lip remained silent for the moment, staring at his shoes. 

“Exactly, so neither of you have the right to judge me. Lip? If Professor Cougar wanted you back, you’d be there in a second and don’t tell me differently. And Fiona, how many times have you gone back and forth with Jimmy Steve? He stole cars for a living, and he was married to a drug lord’s daughter. Mickey was trying to help us out, it’s not fair we have a psycho in our family. He’s not a bad person. He was apart of our family, so do not look down on him whatever you do. Just please, don’t.” Ian fell back into his pillow, shoving the heals of his hand into his eyes, trying to fight away upcoming emotion. 

“Well, if we are being honest here I got something to share as well. I’ve been real vague about it, but I have been seeing an old friend. And as you mentioned, I do have a habit of going back to Jimmy.” Fiona confessed, tears were fresh in her eyes. 

The news took a second to sink in.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Am I the only sane one in the fucking family?” Lip shouted, finally uncrossing his hands to throw them in the air.

“No. Who the fuck said you're the sane one? If I'm going to guess, for the first time in my life I’m gonna take a stab and say Carl.” Ian laughed, causing the other two siblings to break a smile too. 

“So you’re fucking Jimmy again? What’s his name this time around?” Lip cracked, attempting at a lame joke. 

“Fuck you, that’s his name.” Ian was glad his brother and sister weren’t drilling him on Mickey right away. 

“No, but seriously. He wanted to give me space, yet prove he could get his shit together. He just finished med school, already landing a job as a plastic surgeon. He’s managed to pull some underground work already, because where would be the fun there wasn’t anything illegal done, eh? He lives in Detroit, living the high life that he always wanted. We’ve been in constant contact for five months.”

“You gonna move in with him?” Ian asked curiously.

“I promised myself, not till Carl is eighteen or willing to move, he comes back in a few weeks. I have to talk to Liam, he loves the school he goes to now but I heard a rumor this neighborhood flopped after the prison break out, so no one wants to be here anymore. So they might be closing down the fancy school and going back to the old shitty one. Debbie could care less where I am, she’s so focused on her little family. You know I haven’t seen her in five weeks?” Fiona let out a shaky breath, “And what about Kev and V? How can I live without them? And don’t get me started on Frank..” 

“Fiona, stop making excuses. Kev works at a gay bar. V is co managing your diner. I’m sure they could use the fresh start. If you begged him. I don’t know about Ian, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t mind driving four hours to see you, I remember Karen telling me...anyways we could go down there once a month. No biggie. Hell, I can be a computer technician anywhere, I don’t have to stay here.”

“Well you're being awfully supportive,” Fiona smiled.

“Well are you serious about this, is he serious?”

“Yeah, we are.” 

The conversation carried downstairs, Ian, absolutely starving, sat eating a bowl of pasta in front of their T.V watching the news. He heard the catchy tune of the ‘breaking news’ segment, meant to draw in attention of viewers. And you can say it worked. 

“This just in, breaking news; Mikhailo “Mickey” Milkovich, Chicago legend and runaway fugitive was found earlier this evening, dead. In what seemed to be a drug gang wa-”

Ian spit out the pasta that was in his mouth and threw the bowl down onto the coffee table, springing to his feet. Lip stayed frozen on the couch and Fiona choked back a sob, their smiles entirely forgotten. 

Ian didn't know where he was going till he was already running out the door, not phased by his lack of footwear or light clothing. He ran in the direction of the old Milkovich house, sprinting away from Fiona and Lip’s desperate calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can say that I do not know what it is like to have bipolar disorder, so I tried my best to be vague and quick with the topic and I did a little research. My deepest apologies if I botched it, not my intention.  
> Also, sorry for the cliffhanger it'll make sense, I promise.


	10. Ian

Fiona and Lip went looking for Ian,having a set idea on where the would find him. They pulled up to the curb slowly and the car’s headlights illuminated a sad figure, hunched and broken looking. Fiona killed the engine and took a giant sigh, “When is this kid going to ever catch a fuckin’ break?” The rhetorical question hung heavy in the air, Lip didn’t even bother answering. 

Stepping out of the car, Fiona reached Ian and covered his shoulders with an old blanket. He sat directly in front of the old Milkovich home. He had no idea if Terry still lived there. Did Iggy? What about Collin? 

Fiona sat next to him, not pushing him to speak. Ian felt her body shake next to his, he didn’t even feel the cold. 

“Do you remember Joey Milkovich?” Ian asked, his voice hoarse yet brittle, sounding like broken glass.

“He wasn’t much older then you right? He left when their mom died, back and forth a bit right? Looked a hell of a lot like M-” She stopped herself suddenly, realizing her close mistake. 

“Like Mickey,” Ian continued for her, “Only with blonde hair.”

Fiona didn’t answer.

“Well Joey died about three months ago, and they kept it quiet. Mickey came back and bleached his hair or some shit, fucked up his fingerprints and all. He had a chance to start over, Fiona. “

“Well, fuck.” Was all she could manage, tears silently escaping her eyes. 

Ian wasn't crying. He felt numb. He stared at the beat up old house and expected every memory that came with it. He remembered trying to corner Mandy to tell her to call her brother off him. Ian remembered the first time with him, and the second time. He remembered living there and the few golden days that came along with it. 

“I should've taken the blame.” Ian confessed with no context, leaving Fiona wordlessly confused. “I should’ve told them that I tried and off Sammie. I could’ve put that on my disease right? I wouldn’t have gotten in nearly as much trouble. We could’ve come up with some bullshit story about how I was angry she ratted on me and I had an episode or some shit. It could’ve worked. He’d be here and none of this would’ve happened.” 

“Come on Ian, it’s freezing. Let’s take you back home.” Fiona chose not to comment on his speech, she really didn’t know how to treat this situation. 

“No. Can you please take me somewhere first?” Ian asked.

“Of course.”

The three oldest siblings sat in the car in silence, driving towards downtown. Ian laid across the back sat, eyes closed, trying to relive every moment he shared with Mickey Milkovich. 

After they reached their destination, Fiona and Lip got out of the car to follow their brother and Ian didn't object. They climbed the apartment complex’s stair well without speaking, their footsteps echoed loudly enough to make up for it. 

His siblings stayed back about five feet when Ian finally stopped at a door. He shoved his hands in his pockets and contemplated if he wanted to do this. Finally he raised his hand, rapping loudly. 

It took Mandy slightly longer to reach the door, Ian had probably woken her, it being one in the morning. She opened the door, blinking hard against the hallway’s light.

“Ian?” She looked at his face and saw how absolutely horrible Ian looked. He portrayed a truly broken soul. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair a mess, his complexion was three shades paler than it already usually was. It took her about ten more seconds to fit the pieces together. Her eyes widened and darkened with anger, Ian expected an angry lecture on disturbing her at such a time…

“ _ Ass _ face! You didn’t tell him?” She yelled, turning on her heel to look into the apartment. 

Ian took a step back, confused, looking at Lip to ask for a silent reassurance. But Lip was too busy staring at the back of Mandy’s head as if he saw a ghost. Fiona looked impatient. 

By the time Ian looked back at the door, Mickey was there, very alive and very guilty. 

“Holy shit, Gallagher.” Mickey said, taking in Ian’s appearance. 

Ian couldn't find any thing to say, hell, Ian couldn’t breath. He stood there like a deer caught in headlights. The first thing he felt was complete euphoria, as if all in the world was right again. He almost smiled, but the anger came too soon.

“‘Holy shit, Gallagher?’  _ Holy shit, Gallagher! _ ?!” Ian repeated, shoving Mickey in the chest. “I thought you were dead, fucker. Dead!”

“Yo. Calm down, tough guy.” 

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down, you piece of shit!” Ian was close to hysterics, the tears were finally coming. “I thought you were dead.” With each word came another shove.

“I had to make sure everything was gonna work out man, this was some pretty risky shit we pulled.” Mickey tried explaining. 

“Fuck you.” Ian spat.

“Hey now, Gallagher. Hear me out.”

“Fuck you,” Ian repeated, walking out of the now very small apartment. 

“Don’t any of you fucking follow me,” Ian spat, wanting to be very alone at the moment. 

 

Ian sat at the bottom of the stare well, too cold to sit outside. He still wasn’t wearing any shoes and his feet were cold and wet, the snow had seeped through his thin socks. His mind was in a battle of relief and bitterness. The fact that Mickey was alive was too much for Ian, especially since he heard he was dead from a seemingly very reliable source. 

No doubt Ian was happy to see him alive, and he was very curious for the details of this situation. He wasn’t going to admit that right now though, he was too furious. 

The two hours that existed where Ian though Mickey was dead was the loneliest moment Ian had ever experienced. He always felt connected to Mickey, together or not, an invisible string always tied them together. Thinking Mickey was dead was like someone cutting that string, letting Ian float around, lost. He didn’t know how to feel now that he knew Mickey wasn’t actually gone. 

Ian was exhausted, emotionally and physically drained, falling asleep in the drafty stair well, slumped against the wall. 


	11. Mickey

Ian was passed out when Mickey found him. He sat at the bottom of the stairs, neck bent at an awkward angle, forehead plastered against the bricks, snoring slightly. Mickey watched him sleep from a small distance, taking a couple drags from his smoke. 

The last thirty six hours had been absolutley crazy for Mickey, and Ian had been the icing on the cake. Mickey's initial idea was to not let Ian in on the plan for a couple of reasons. For starters, what if it flopped? He couldn't let Ian get mixed up in the mess. Secondly, a tiny part of Mickey thought "fuck Ian". It wasn't any of his fucking business.

He realized his mistake immediately when Ian showed up at the door; the kid looked borderline Zombie. Mickey wasn't going to lie though, amongst the shouting and shoving, seeing Ian that bent on him gave Mickey wood. Made him feel important again, who knew that was his kink?

After the cop showed up, Mickey knew it was time to make thing final. He stared at the phone all night, trying to decide if taking this risk was worth it. He finally reached out to Svetlana, striking a deal with the bitch. 

"Under one condition." She has said, "I do this and you stay away from Yevgeny. You will not bring my son into your shit. Yes?" 

Svetlana was a very connected women. A lot of people owed her or her father. She managed to rough the real Joey's body up, making him scientifically unable to identify. Planted him in Wisconsin and payed someone to call it in. Mandy and Terry were brought in to identify. All Mandy had to do was cry a bit. Terry wasn't in on it, but looked at the mess of the partially decomposed and mutilated body and barked a "Yeah that's my fag of a son, serves him right fucking monkey." And magically the case was closed, the cops wanted to believe anything. Svetlana managed all this without lifting a finger.

Mickey watched Ian's head slide off the wall, falling onto the step behind him with a crack. The fucker didn't even twitch. Mickey stubbed the last of his cigarette, flicking it away, cussing under his breath. He made his way to Ian and nudged him with his foot, "Hey, rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty." Of course Ian didn't budge. 

Attacked by deja vu, Mickey grunted after lifting Ian and throwing him over his shoulder, he was a lot lighter three years ago.

Mickey was out of breath by the time he reached the door, banging it with his foot. 

Fiona answered the door, gasping at the sight, "What the fuck happened?" 

"I found him this way," He replied, pushing past the door. "He'll stay with me tonight." And made his way to his room. 

As softly as he could manage, Mickey placed Ian on his bed. He stared at him for a while, wondering if he looked creepy doing so. Finally taking his eyes off him, he looked up to find Fiona at the doorway. Mickey raised his eyebrows in question.

"You guys really do care for each other, don't you?" She asked softly. 

"Fuck, I mean, I guess." He thumbed his nose uncomfortably.

"I never thanked you or apologized," Fiona admitted, "You were there during the whole thing, and I'm really fucking thankful." She smiled kindly and left, Mickey heard the closing of the front door and sighed. 

Of course they cared, but that didn't mean shit if they didn't sort things out.


	12. Ian

Ian sat on the edge of the bed, trying to take everything in. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, regardless of the cold weather outside, he slept eleven hours in his jeans and sweatshirt. 

 

“And that’s that,” finished Mickey.

 

“And they bought it?” Asked Ian, incredulously. 

 

“You know the cops, they wanted to end this case. Put a bad name out in the ‘hood.”

 

“So you’re basically free?” Ian could barely contain himself, but tried to stay composed. 

 

“Yeah, well they aren’t looking for me or anything, but I can’t stay here, man. How dumb would that make me? Pretty fucking dumb.” Mickey answered himself. 

 

“So what, you gonna drive off to Mexico again? I’ll go with you, for real this time.” Ian promised eagerly.

 

Mickey laughed uneasily, “Yeah fucking right, that place did me no good. I can stay in the states, just not in my home town. It’s like a target is on my back, man.”

 

“So, what are we going to do?” 

 

He chose to ignore the ‘we’, “I’m gonna find a small town, start over. Stay out of trouble.”

 

“When?” Ian felt like he was playing twenty questions. 

 

Ian was ready to take off any day now, he was not about to let Mickey cross any border without him, not again. When Mickey came back, Ian was just starting to forget the way Mickey made him feel. The distractions were working: his job, Trevor, Caleb. When Ian watched Mickey go from country to country, he realised all those were just distractions. The fact that Mickey was out there, and not stuck behind a set of bars, frozen in time, made Ian go crazy. Deciding between doing the right thing and the thing he wanted was difficult. From watching his parent’s sadistic relationship and with Fiona ultimately raising him, he knew what was the right choice in the moment. Although, now things were easier and the choice was clearer.  

 

“I’m still tryna Iron things out, man. Hop off my dick.” Mickey replied to the question, causing Ian to look up and raise an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look, Gallagher. We still have things to think about.” A thick tension spread through the room as Ian scooted closer to Mickey. 

 

“What’s there to think about? _ Joey? _ You and I are here, together, in the same country, same bed even. No one is locked up. There’s no need to overthink anything. Not right now.”

 

“Not right now,” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


Ian pulled on his pants and smiled to himself, facing the door. 

 

“Do you know how many times I told myself not to do what we just did? Since I was I was like what? Seventeen? Jesus.” Ian turned around chuckling as Mickey passed him the cigarette. 

 

“Good thing you didn’t listen.”

 

“No kidding.” Mickey gave Ian a once over and laughed out loud.

 

“What the fuck are you laughing at?”

 

“After we bang you alway end up tucking in your shirt when you put your clothes back on,” Mickey shared, still smiling. 

 

Ian immediately went to untuck his shirt, his cheeks reddening. He wasn’t used to feeling embarrassed, but Mickey made him feel a certain way. “Fuck you.” He was smiling too.

 

Mickey made his way to Ian and took his wrists in his hand, “Don’t.” He said, resting his forehead on Ian’s, “I fucking love it.” 

 

Ian’s chest swelled, he missed this so much.

 

“Oh, man. I think you’re gonna want me too.” Eager to start round two.

 

“Well damn, fire crotch. I forgot where you got your name” 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Ian made a big deal about tucking in his shirt in, raising his eyebrows as he tightened his belt. He felt happy again, Mickey made him feel like an emotional roller coaster- more so than he already was. 

 

“Scram, goofball. You promised Fiona you’d be back for a family meeting or some shit, remember?” 

 

“No,  _ you _ promised. Thank you for that.”

 

Mickey lit another cigarette in response, smiling slyly. 

 

“Come with me,” 

 

“You’re fucking nuts.”   
  


“Please.” Ian didn’t want to spend two minutes away from him.

 

Thirty minutes later, Ian felt as though he was dragging Mickey through his front doors. The door slammed behind them and Ian rounded the second corner, leaving Mickey to wait in the small room.

 

The first person Ian saw was Carl. His hair was dressed in the uniform and he his hair was now buzzed. Ian felt a small stab of jealously. No doubt, he was happy for his brother, finally getting shit straight. But that was supposed to be him. His disease fucked that up for him too.

 

“You’re back,” He grabbed his brother into a tight hug as Debbie rounded the corner. 

 

“Ian! Come say hi to Franny!”

 

“Shit, is Neil here? Hey debs.” 

 

“No, he stayed back with his sister for the day.” Ian didn’t want to risk introducing Mickey to the guy who was known for blurting the truth, no matter what it was. 

 

“Alright, cool. Why are we all here?”

 

“Carl just got out of camp, and Fiona wanted to talk to us about something.” Debbie reported, “Probably another surprise marriage,” she rolled her eyes toward the door. That’s when she noticed Mickey. 

 

“Mickey?” 

 

“Hey, Strawberry Shortcake.”

 

The rest of the Gallagher's gathered around.

 

“Dude, I thought you were dead.” Smiled Carl, greeting Mickey with a handshake.

 

“You try killing Mickey Milkovich,” He chided back. 

 

“Alright, gang.” Fiona called, “Everyone in the kitchen.” 

 

Once everyone was gathered around, Kev and Vee made their way in through the back door, eyes widening at the sight of Mickey. 

 

“I’m going to cut to the chase. I’m moving to Michigan. As his legal guardian, I’m taking Liam. You can come with me of you want. You can stay if you want. Just Carl, let me know what you want me to do, I’m still in charge so we gotta sort things out.”

 

Conversation broke out loudly in the small room. 

 

“Do you realize how selfish you’re being?” Debbie asked, her mouth hanging open. 

 

“Debbie, chill. You can’t expect her to stay here forever.” Lip broke in. 

 

“Whatever. I’m staying here. I’m happy with Niel.”

 

Fiona answered with a calm smile, “And I’m happy for you. We can alwa-”

 

“Mickey’s coming with me.” Ian interrupted. 

 

The table silenced in a matter of seconds, Mickey looked as surprised as anybody else. 

 

“We don’t have to stay in the same house, but I am not letting stupid shit keep us apart again.” 

 

“C’mon man. This isn’t stupid shit we’re talking about,” Mickey muttered. 

 

“That’s for me to decide. And I already have. Mickey and I will move to Michigan, Fiona.”

 

Fiona swallowed, hesitant. “I mean, I can’t stop you. Just don’t take us down if shit goes south, Ian.” She winked. 

  
Ian finally found the small light at the end of the tunnel. He knew he was being selfish by bringing Mickey back to his family, but he finally found a way. A way he could be with most of his family, including Mickey. Mickey had a new identity. They were safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best chapter, but I hoped you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfiction, please stick with me and leave any notes of advice. Thank you!


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